


Licentious Hauntings

by nbbucky



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Porn, M/M, Mind Palace! Jim, Post-Season/Series 04, Rim job, The wedding dress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 07:17:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10381443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nbbucky/pseuds/nbbucky
Summary: “How many times does this make it?” He was smirking.He was incredibly smug and Sherlock was infuriated.





	

“How many times does this make it?” He was smirking. He was incredibly smug and Sherlock was infuriated. 

 

“How many times have you come to see me like this? With the  _ intentions  _ you are currently preoccupied with,” Moriarty moved his hand down to the bottom of the wedding dress and tugged at the lace before letting go as he lounged on Sherlock’s bed. 

 

“What a happy accident...you picturing me as your lovely bride. Although I suppose that’s how you’ve always felt, what was it you said ‘ _ Married  _ to your work.’ and I’ve  _ always  _ been the only interesting work you could get your hands on,” 

 

Sherlock could not say what had driven him to continually seek out Moriarty in his mind palace or why when they engaged it was usually in the Victorian era Sherlock had concocted. But it had happened more times than Sherlock liked to admit. 

 

“I don't want to engage in any such nonsense. Now get off my bed,”

 

Moriarty, instead of doing what he was told, fell back more into Sherlock’s bed and spread his legs. The dress was too long for Sherlock to see up it but he could see the nylon stocking that Sherlock knew ended at Moriarty’s thighs and squeezed them sinfully before being attached to a set of garters. 

 

“How about instead of making excuses you act like a good husband and eat your wife out. I know it's your favorite thing to do,” Sherlock felt himself flush and heard Moriarty’s laugh in response. 

 

Sherlock gritted his teeth and warned, “Do not presume to know what I like or dislike,”

 

“Oh, then show me what you like,”

 

“I'll have to decline that offer and instead ask you to leave,”

 

Moriarty still smirked and made no immediate action to leave. Instead, he pulled the dress up past his knees and let the bunched fabric in his hands rest against his thighs. He removed his left hand from the dress and tapped his fingers against his stocking covered leg. The tapping was deliberate and slow, it looked as if the air was heavy and it took effort for Moriarty to make any movement. 

 

Sherlock wants, more than anything else, to pull the dress up to his waist and bite, suck and kiss at the inside of Moriarty’s smooth thighs before pulling down whatever underwear he's wearing and shaping his mouth against his hole. 

 

Sherlock wants. 

 

“I think it's just gotten rather warm in here. Would you agree with me on that, Sherlock?” The bedroom had begun to feel sweltering, far too warm for clothes.  

 

“I'm sure there are many things I would agree with you on,” Sherlock murmured, transfixed by the image of shapely legs in tights before he stopped himself. He was being set ablaze. 

 

“Don't stop there, Sherl, ravish me already,”  Moriarty brought his left hand up to his mouth and flicked his thumb with this tongue. He was showing off his tight, wet, warm, pink mouth and Sherlock was sweating. 

 

He was admittedly taking a long time to acknowledge Moriarty and his flirting, therefore, he was unsurprised when Moriarty reached up from his sprawled position with his hand for Sherlock to take it. Sherlock hesitated and let his hand hover over Moriarty’s before Moriarty lightly gripped his wrist and guided it down to his soft, tights covered thighs. Sherlock sighed and looked down at the man, he was breathtaking. Sherlock had yet to feel an all-encompassing physical and mental pull to another person before he had met Moriarty and he knew he never would again, he knew he was alone in the world. But those thoughts could wait as he let his fingers trail up to the clasp on the garter and undo it before he slipped his fingers under the tights and pulled it down his left leg.

 

“God, you’re taking forever,” Jim groaned, and in that split moment he sounded like an ordinary man complaining about his careful boyfriend, just like anyone else and Sherlock almost laughed, his chest felt so tight, they never could have had that, “let me help you.” Jim unclasped the garter on his right leg and pushed it down, the action brought the two of them face to face and Sherlock couldn’t have stopped himself even if he wanted to from stealing a kiss. Sherlock let the fire and agony consuming him control the kiss, it was hot and needy, mournful and cold, like his dead bride in his arms. Moriarty made a little noise as Sherlock pressed against him, pushing him back on the bed.

 

“Stay still,” he growled, kneeled down and pulled Moriarty forward so that there was a thigh to either side of his face. He contemplated the way to pull the silk panties off that would lend to Moriarty getting to the moany out of control state Sherlock desired. Before Sherlock could decide his face was tightly sandwiched between his thighs. Moriarty had crossed his legs at the knees.

 

Sherlock turned his head ever so slightly, as much as he could in the enclosed space, and bit down, he heard a gasp, muffled by the thighs on either side of him, as blood filled his mouth. Jim pulled his legs away quickly, his bitten leg shaking the whole time.

 

“Stay,” Sherlock repeated and when Jim didn’t move again Sherlock kissed above the bite mark as a reward. He turned to the other leg, pressed firm closed mouth kisses from his knee up to the top of the ivory panties, right below Jim’s belly button, and then in one fluid motion pulled the panties down. His cock was hard and flushed, Sherlock took great pleasure in hearing the surprised noise Jim made when he was first exposed to the air of the bedroom. 

 

Sherlock licked up to the tip of his dick before pulling back, “Turn around.” 

 

Moriarty didn’t move and instead whispered, “Why don’t you make me?”

 

Sherlock growled, grabbed Moriarty’s hips and flipped him over in one swift motion. Sherlock finished pulling the silk panties and tights off and discarded of them before tentatively licking Jim’s hole. The strangled noise that flew from his mouth was more than enough motivation for Sherlock to continue with vigor. He could feel more blood rushing to his dick as he nuzzled deeply in Jim's ass. It wasn't until Jim’s groans turned into breathless pants that Sherlock paused. Jim jerked back, trying to get Sherlock’s mouth back on him and pleasure his trapped cock in the same motion. 

 

“Eager,” Sherlock whispered as he leaned over and pressed his body against Jim’s. He placed two of his fingers against Jim’s soft mouth. Jim smiled and opened his mouth to suck on his fingers. Jim wiggled underneath the weight as he sucked on Sherlock’s fingers. He was clearly enjoying himself. Enjoying the weight of a body holding him down. Enjoying the noises from Sherlock when the swell of his ass pressed against Sherlock's still clothed cock. 

 

When Sherlock considered his fingers wet enough he pulled them out with a wet plop and preceded to push one into Jim. 

 

Jim hissed softly at the slight burn. He was wet, Sherlock had made sure, but not wet enough to glide in easily. Sherlock pumped his finger in and out as he pressed closed mouth kisses down Jim’s flushed face. 

 

Moriarty turned his head and sought Sherlock’s mouth. The resulting kiss was messy and full of fervor. During the long open mouth kiss, Sherlock pushed his second finger in to feel the breath escape Moriarty’s lungs. And escape it did, Jim gasped and groaned and Sherlock felt  _ all  _ of it. It was  _ exhilarating _ . 

 

Sherlock pulled back, they had to breathe and focused on getting Jim loose enough to take Sherlock without tearing. 

 

Sherlock leaned back and looked at Jim stretched around his two fingers. If he looked lower he could see Jim’s hard and heavy cock as well as the shaking legs- the bite mark was still bleeding a bit, tiny little droplets rolling down his thigh.  

 

“Why do you insist on the difficult way even in your own mind? You could have made me slick enough without all this prep,” Moriarty whined. Sherlock pushed his head into the bed in retaliation. 

 

“Shh,” He warned as he finally freed his straining dick and bunched up the dress in his own hand. One hand held the dress fabric tight against Jim's lower back while the other lined Sherlock up. He pressed forward and felt the tight ring of muscle give way slowly. He wasn't tearing but he was still almost unbearably tight. Sherlock leaned in more and Moriarty clenched around him. Sherlock gasped shakingly and Moriarty leaned his head back showing off his neck still covered by the dress. 

 

“Are you enjoying yourself?”  Moriarty asked and Sherlock could only pant in response as he tried to continue. He finally bottomed out and started to thrust. Jim went to lower his head as he let out the small whiny moans that were music to Sherlock's ears but instead Sherlock grabbed the veil and pulled Jim’s head back up. He kissed and nipped at Jim's exposed upper neck and jaw. 

 

Jim shuddered underneath him, “I'll take that as a yes,” 

 

Sherlock pressed kiss after kiss until he reached Jim’s mouth. 

 

“Give it to me, Sherl, like you wish you could,”

 

Sherlock picked up the pace but only a bit, it was still a slow, lazy, careful pace and in retaliation Jim, with all his strength, thrust his hips back to meet Sherlock.

 

“Let. Go,” He interrupted each word with a thrust. 

 

Sherlock grabbed Moriarty's neck, squeezed and fucked him without pause. Sherlock was so hard it was painful. Jim tried to meet him on every thrust but eventually just let himself be fucked into the mattress. 

 

Sherlock inhaled a lungful of the warm moist air in the room, he was going to come. He reached under Jim to grab his cock and started stroking. He collected the pre-ejaculate from Jim’s dick and spread it over his fingers as lube for the warm, solid cock in his hand. It wasn’t long before Sherlock could feel Jim’s cock twitch in his hand, a warning that he was about to come. Sherlock needed to feel Jim come undone, he wanted it more than he wanted to come. 

 

Sherlock pushed all the way to the hilt as he squeezed Jim’s cock, breathed against Jim’s ear and whispered softly, “Come.”  

 

Jim shook, groaned and came. Sherlock pulled out, he had come right after feeling, seeing, hearing Jim come but he had hardly noticed- too invested in Jim Moriarty’s orgasm. Jim turned around and met Sherlock’s gaze. There was blood smeared all over his mouth and Sherlock frowned. 

 

Sherlock leaned forward and moved to thread his fingers through Jim’s hair.

 

“Don’t,” Jim whispered, “If you want to stay here, Sherlock, you won’t.”

 

He didn’t pull his fingers back, “It’s time for me to wake up.”

 

He didn’t voice his regrets didn’t say,  _ It’s time for me to wake up and realize we never could have had this. It’s time for me to wake up and forget my desire to know you completely. You died, you can’t come back and I’ll never have another equal.  _ He especially didn’t say,  _ I’m scared of a future without you. I hate being bored.   _ He did not voice such thoughts because saying them in front of Jim, even a fake one, deeply disturbed him. Ever since Eurus, he felt himself shying even more away from his emotions. Truly becoming the ‘unfeeling machine’ as John called it. He felt himself losing the battle as he continued to look deeply into Jim’s eyes.   

 

“Fine,” Jim replied and Sherlock carded his fingers through Jim’s hair until he came to the gaping hole where James Moriarty’s brilliant brain once resided. He pulled his now sticky, warm, red fingers away and looked at Jim. He was absolutely lifeless, eyes ajar, mouth slack. He looked the same as he did after he shot himself on the rooftop. Sherlock sighed, he could feel himself waking up, the world he was in was blurring around the edges and Jim was getting further and further away from him. 

 

He woke up in his bed at 221B, he was lying on his stomach and was incredibly aware of the wet spot on the sheets. He must have fucked the bed in his sleep. He could hear John up and about in the kitchen, probably making tea. It was time to get up and pretend. It was time for Sherlock to pretend, as he did every day, that James Moriarty’s death was of no significance to him. 

 

But just before he faced that fabricated reality, Sherlock Holmes admitted to himself in the quiet of his bedroom that, yes, he very much missed him.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok I've promised myself I was gonna write Sheriarty smut for a long time now and I've finally done it. One more thing off my bucket list! Also, I feel there is a severe lack of fics with Jim in the wedding dress so I thought I would just add to that category. Also also I didn't mean for the angst at the end but really what is Sheriarty without all the tragedy and sad times.
> 
> Anyway, you can contact me on my Tumblr, nbjimmoriarty and every comment brings Sherlock one day closer to realizing just how much Jim means to him.


End file.
